


.[ first course ].

by proverbial_golden_light



Series: Kitchen Stories [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Joker's bullying of Ed will never end, M/M, Metaphysics, Mildly Dramatic, Paranormal Investigators, Slice of Life, Spiritual, a lot of stuff happens actually, beware???, everyone loves to eat, ghost mentions??, ish, pijamadas, remind me who died
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-06-08 15:12:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15246069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proverbial_golden_light/pseuds/proverbial_golden_light
Summary: Where a certain clown’s kitchen becomes the mysteriously usual stage for a ghost appearance, a messy murder, a few existential talks, some stupid conversations, midnight baking, the forging of new alliances, and romcom.Or: When Joker proves to be a far better host than anyone, especially the other Rogues, could have ever dared to expect.





	.[ first course ].

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly think the Joker is a very good eater... ferocious even. He just has a quick metabolism, that's all.

“I swear! I've seen it takin’ all the cookies from the cookie shelf!”

“What. In the world. Are you talking about?” Demanded an exasperated Edward while holding the bridge of his nose with two fingers. It was way into the small hours for this kind of nonsense, if he had only known he would have to deal with an extra dose of Joker’s delusions and madness he would never have asked to stay here for the night. But he was very far away from his own hideout, and a little too crushed from his latest escapade, so there hadn't been many options at the time anyway.

“About the cookie-stealing ghost down there in the kitchen Eddie. Pay attention.”

“A cookie stealing—? Sweet Lord. Please tell me _that is not_ the reason you woke me up at this ungodly hour, you deranged clown.” Now he was rubbing his face with both hands.

“Aww, c’mon boy! Don't be a party pooper, you'll _love it_ when you see it!” The clown insisted, forcefully removing Edward from underneath his tangled nest of sheets and practically shoving him outside the room and into the unlit hall.

“Fine, fine! I'm going! Just—s _top pushing_ me around like a rag doll! I can walk on my own.” Upon being released, he made a show of dusting himself off and then, with a flourish, signaled for the other to lead the way.

 

* * *

 

They were not in Joker’s main hideout behind the abandoned Amusement Park, he had been lucky to find the jester there to begin with, but the one closest to the docks among a series of old and sleazy departments with barricaded doors and windows that shut the light out of them. As it remained well hidden between the tall crumbling buildings, the hideout was somber and gloomy at best, and pitch black at worst. As of _now_. Some of its adjacent corridors even reminding Edward of the all-engulfing darkness of solitary confinement at Arkham after having left ‘threatening riddles’ on the mess hall’s walls _yet again_.

“What's up, Eddie boy? _Scared?_ ” Joker taunted, turning his head slightly to look at him. The bastard looked entirely unaffected and walked as easily and sleekly as a cat over dark rooftops in a moonless night. ‘He probably even _has_ a cat’s vision’ Edward thought bitterly, and then gave an answering scoff.

“ _To death._ You can't even imagine.” And, of course, his trademark eye roll in order of being fully convincing. Just in case Joker’s gaze could actually pierce through the bottomless black mass that were the corridors at such hours and take note of his subtle trepidation. Just in case.

“Hehe. Good.” He said nothing more after that.

To the extent of making Edward feel uncomfortable and in _dire need_ of breaking the eerie silence somehow. “It’s… unusually quiet here.” He muttered, suddenly afraid of being _too loud_ and disrupting something unknown. He looked down at the customized watch hugging his left wrist; ever faithful and ever handy since he never removed it, not even when he slept or bathed. “Almost four in the morning. Great.”

“Oh, _yes_! You didn't really expect my boys or, heck, _Harley_ , goin’ to bed right at 9pm every night, did ya’? Because they don't!” He made a pause to snicker and then proceeded proudly. “Tonight is special, though. Since _everyone besides me_ is soundly asleep. I checked.”

“I am awake too, remember? Thanks to a certain someone.” Easy as that, he was annoyed all over again. It felt good to be annoyed at the Joker.

“But you don't _live_ here Ed, you're just crashing for the night.” Joker countered without skipping beat, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. And, in a way, The Riddler supposed it was.

“ _That_ still doesn't explain anything.” Whatever, stubborn had always been his style so stubborn he _was going to be_.

“What I mean, puzzle boy, is that after a series of meticulous research procedures I won't be breaching with you right now, I've come to the unsuspected conclusion that _this_ only happens when _I'm_ the **only one** awake.”

“I am awake too.”

“I already said you don't count, smartass.” It was an ironic answer, of course.

“How do you know I don't count when you've never tried this before, dumbass?”

“Always so aggressive right off the bat, aren't cha’? Tut tut, not nice at all.” He chastised. “But anyways, shut up already. We're here.”

They were standing right in front of the kitchen’s swinging doors, those with the little circular windows on the middle top which, by the way, were cracked. Joker peeked through one, seemingly scouting and making tiny surprised gasps every now and then, which Edward knew to be positively fake. After a few more instants of the ridiculous display, the Riddler simply couldn’t take it anymore.

“This is stupid. Are we _done_? Can we go now?” He was already crossing his arms and just threatening to tap his foot moodily, like a sulky child.

“For God’s sake, Edward! A teeny bit of patience is _not_ going to kill ya’! This is all about timing. We _must_ wait for the best mo— **Oh, and here it is!** ”

Without warning nor hesitation, Joker threw the kitchen’s door open and turned sharply on his heels, grabbed the other by the shirt as fast as he could and promptly shoved him through the open door. He then proceeded to enter the room too, closing the door behind him and following closely in a crouched position. Edward, on the other hand, laid spread where he had fallen, since he had stepped over an unopened soda can and slipped all the way to the floor when he was pushed, near the old wreck Joker had for a fridge and relatively close to one of the wide kitchen’s corners. Scrambling to get on his feet, clawing away old rags, broken tiles and the occasional furniture piece, he finally stood. Ballistic.

“Don’t get up!” Joker admonished him in a hushed, urgent, voice from his ‘hiding spot’ behind a metallic trash can.

Unfortunately, the intellectual was seeing red by now, blood and face boiling from the sheer indignity of having to fall on his butt, unceremoniously, on a dirty floor, in Joker’s hideout, _in front_ of Joker, because of said man’s antics. Again. “Why you little—! _You_ will be the one who doesn’t get up when I’m done with you!” He vociferated, his intent of bodily tackling the madman very clear in his movements, and he was just about to _spring_ when a weird glimpse from the far corner of the kitchen caught his eye.

He turned his head to look in that direction and, after fully taking in the strange sight, couldn’t help crumbling to the floor one more time. But at least this time he didn’t land on his butt, just his knees.

 

* * *

 

It reminded him of a _firefly…_ No, not the fellow rogue, but the actual luminescent insects. The way the light enveloped them like some kind of mystic halo and followed them around incessantly, bathing their surroundings in their shimmery glow. Bathing them in the golden light emanating from their very insides. Like a single bulb shining lonely in an abandoned hut of sorts, pretty much like a horror film’s scenario. Reaching everything and nothing at the same time. Ethereal, vague, but very much there. Something that you feel more than see, just like those fireflies when you were a kid. You don’t have to touch them or feel them in your palm, you just have to _see_ a bunch of them from afar in a wet summer night and your heart, invariably, _flutters._ For no tangible reason whatsoever, but a chord is struck inside of you.

It was a bit like that, or so Edward thought.

He recoiled without meaning to, not exactly frightened but _appalled_. He kept shifting backwards without looking, until his back got in contact with the fridge’s bumpy surface. He kept shifting backwards until he could advance no more.

“Are you scared, _now?_ ” The Clown Prince asked with scorn while staring maliciously at an utterly bewildered and discombobulated Edward. Who still had his back flushed against the metallic door behind him, far to the left side of Joker’s trash can, which was still quite close to the doorway, in an unconscious effort to put as much distance as possible between the supernatural being in front of him and himself.

 _“Not really.”_ is what Edward wanted to answer, as it seemed the ‘ghost’ was paying them no mind at all; and what’s more, one could say it even looked _content_ with just aimlessly levitating in the center of the kitchen, unperturbed, and letting its greenish glow, different from a firefly’s in that particular way, caress every surface in its proximity. So he opened his mouth to speak, but then suddenly decided it would be better to keep his volume as low as humanly possible, and that in order of Joker actually getting to hear him it would be necessary to get closer.

Riddler’s blue eyes were fixed almost unblinkingly on the swirly entity, alert to any change in behavior, as he prepared to approach Joker’s trashcan. He felt his way with his right hand, eyes still decidedly trained forward, and, deeming it safe enough, lurched in the other man’s direction. Success. He could hear the clown giggling like an idiot from almost directly behind him now.

‘I’m really going to smack him when this is over.’ A motivational thought coursed through his mind as he readied to take the second blind leap. He had deemed it safe again but, in the middle of his movement, he had an unexpected encounter with the forsaken soda can from before. And only realized it until it was too late, until the god-awful can was rolling away from under his hand, the hand he happened to be leaning his full weight on. He lost his balance and tumbled backwards, of course; as the miserable can slid noisily across the floor and crashed under some cabinets, out of sight.

Even the Joker held his breath.

Edward recovered and sat up immediately, only to find himself face to face with two black pits filled with nothing. The two obscure wells embedded on the ghost’s body were watching closely, in a primal reminder of eyes, barely a hair width’s away from him. He stared at them and they stared back. Just like two holes on a wall, but these were deep and terrible, and gave the impression to be looking right at him while at the same time looking nowhere, and everywhere too. And the air of the kitchen itself seemed to be morphing around them all, growing thick and charged, and resounding with some nostalgic murmur that unaccountably reminded Edward of whales crying in the distance while being hunted.

Akin to whispers trying to convey a song or a story, the blurry noise ringed in his ears, impossible to avoid, and, with a memory’s precision, filled him with a liquid sort of sadness. Foreign at first, and very personal at last.

Filled him to the brim with fear too.

Oh, how scared he was now. The bizarre energy radiating from the creature made the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and shake along with his full-body tremors. Jon would have been proud of the display.

“No… This is—I—”

That’s when the madman finally intervened: crawling on all fours, the Joker abandoned his hideaway and crept behind the Riddler discreetly until his extended hand was close enough to grab him by the shirt’s collar; proceeding then to drag him along, back into hiding, and practically onto his lap. Fortunately, and if such thing could ever be said, poor Eddie was too stunned to even bring himself to complain about any part of the manhandling. Besides, the clown’s bony hands were deadly clamped over his mouth; just for good measure. And he kept his chokehold firmly in place like that, even when the intellectual came back to his senses and started kicking.

“Hush, hush, darlin’! Uncle Joker’s got everything under control~” He cooed in an excited little voice, and while still bodily restraining the other man sitting between his legs, who kept fighting nonetheless. “Listen boy! I’m not lettin’ go of you ‘til you _relax._ Got it? Sheesh, speaking of makin’ things more complicated than necessary.”

With a _very frustrated_ growl, Edward finally conceded and went limp in Joker’s grasp muttering a muffled “Fine”.

“Well done, Eddie. I knew you could handle as much!” He teased, finally removing his hand and loosening his hold.

Edward wiped his mouth with the end of his sleeve in a reflex and contemplated risking a glance over the edge of the trashcan, but the fresh memory of the encounter, and the _alien_ feelings it inspired, managed to dissuade him.

“N-Now what?” He mentally cursed himself for stuttering, he wasn’t five years old for God’s sake.

“Nothin’ much. I just wanted you to see it.”

“How very thoughtful.”

When they finally peeked from behind the trashcan, Edward was pleasantly surprised to discover that, in fact, the ghost hadn’t moved _an inch_ from its original spot at the kitchen’s far corner. Even after having intimately felt its eyes on him, watching him from the very inside of his personal bubble, this was, well, unexpected.

“So you spoke the truth…” He breathed, slightly amazed.

“Do I not always? Heh.”

“Not even _I_ know what to make of all this.”

The Riddler glanced down at his watch. “It will soon be dawning too. So it’s probably in our best interests to get going now. Or in _my_ interest, at least. After all, I came here with the intention of _actually_ sleeping.”

“Sure thing. Just lemme—where did I put them?” Reaching into his pockets, the Joker took out a small bundle, and gave it to Edward.

“Are these… _shortbread_ _cookies_?”

“I told you! It’s a cookie-stealing ghost, it _has_ to like cookies. It’s a requirement.” The Joker had the gall to sound exasperated.

Edward just gave him a look and returned the ‘package’ to the other.

“Wait ‘ere. I’ll show ya’ non believer.” And with that, the clown promptly shoved the incredulous man off his lap, letting him fall and squeak in the process just to make a point of his indignation. “I’m honestly getting tired of your—!” The fallen one was about to lash out, but the Clown Prince of Crime pressed a finger against his lips and basically told him to shut the hell up. Then he stood, cookies in hand, and abandoned the safety of the trashcan.

 

* * *

 

The early morning sun filtered through decaying curtains, warming up everything that came into touch with its peachy rays. Two figures could be seen sitting at the breakfast bar, installed during one of the clown’s sudden outbursts and which inherent luxury couldn’t do much but crash with the rest of the kitchen. It was clean too, shiny even.

They were in the process of consuming an extraordinarily early supper, still, it was rich in its contents: some fried eggs and bacon for the Riddler, accompanied by a sweet glass of orange juice, and industrial loads of crunchy bread slices covered in butter and jam for the Joker, he was drinking his whole milk directly from the package, and had already eaten a banana or two.

“I don’t think we’ll be hearin’ any more about it.”  The last one spoke out of the blue, breaking the comfortable silence they had been settled in, and making Edward look up from his food, questioning.

“The specter?” But he got no answer so he pushed a little more with a scoff. “Why do you say that? I thought he was the real landlord of this place… and you were only paying the rent in cookies. Why stop now?” He said, resting his chin lazily on his hand while taking another bite of the delicious eggs. They were cooked to perfection, mind you.

“It’s not about _stopping_ , Eddie-darlin’. It’s about how things _are._ ” Joker’s voice was sickly sweet when he said this, but the look in his eyes somehow defied his words. Edward didn’t notice.

“Okay…? You are especially disturbing this morning, did you know that?” Edward said, grossed out, but the Joker merely shrugged it off and continued with his breakfast. In the middle of another mouthful he spoke again.

“Did you like it?”

“Excuse me?”

“The ghost, Edward, the ghost. Did you like the ghost? Well, _seeing_ the ghost, more precisely. Likin’ it in other ways would be a teeny bit weird, even for a geek like you...”

“…”

“So? Did you like seeing the ghost?” The Joker pressed on, pointedly ignoring the Riddler’s annoyance. The other just held the bridge of his nose with index and thumb and curtly answered, “Yes, yes, I liked seeing the ghost. _Nevermind_ it meant not sleeping more than an hour or so last night.”

“So what? You can stay another night and recover, get a hold of your very much needed beauty sleepy!” The Joker made a show of batting his eyelashes.

“I am not so sure about that.” Said Edward narrowing his eyes, distrustful. The Joker merely cackled and went back to his breakfast. The Riddler was just about to do the same when he spotted the empty bag of cookies lying in the middle of the kitchen, close to the place where the ghost had suddenly whirled on itself after consuming them and then turned into thin air. It had been really something. If he focused, he could still picture its eyes like pits and feel the buzz of its lime green energy prickling his skin, his face, his soul. He thought of…

“Riddle me this: Why do whales sing?” He shot and waited, looking expectantly at the other man.

“Woah, woah, Eddie. You hadn’t riddled in like… 6 hours! For a moment I feared you were cured, hahahaha!”

“Just answer me.”

“Mmmm, oh, I dunno…” The Joker rubbed his chin, scratched his head, and chewed his food thoughtfully.

“Is it because they can’t talk? Nor complain when they _die_ in brutal ways??” Joker truly couldn’t stop giggling, ever.

“Glad you are not entirely stupid.” Edward smiled wryly, and hesitated before continuing, “It’s not about the whales, actually… I just… I heard them, or at least something that resembled their cries and… It’s most likely just a metaphor.”

"First, I am astounded by your eloquence this entire _soirée_. Second, I didn’t think cha’ capable of bein’ _anything_ beside exasperated and obnoxious. And _still,_ here we are! The mighty Riddler is feeling _blue_ ~”

“I am not blue, you stupid clown! I am just trying to figure this whole thing out!”

A few more guffaws and the Joker’s laughter fit abruptly came to its end and, looking entirely composed, he said, “Even so. I know what you mean, Eddie boy. I’ve heard it too. From the very first time. A glum melody of murdered whales or something very akin to it.” Edward was speechless, the Joker continued.

“The funny thing is: it doesn’t make me think of the sea at all! Hehe. But of… a red helmet, bad jokes, an unborn baby, and a vat of chemicals instead. It _is_ funny, right? _Riddle me this:_ Whose memories do you think these are?”

Edward was wide eyed, unsure for once about what to say next to Joker’s pleasantly smiling face. He got immediately reminded of that one time he hacked Batman’s main computer for a few minutes and, in the spur of the moment, decided to copy all his fellow rogues’ files, among other things. Mainly because he knew information was always a valuable asset. One he always strived to attain beforehand so he could be ahead of everyone and plan for everything. A precaution. Nothing more. But, on the other hand, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t _curious at all_ about some of his colleagues’ ‘origin’ stories and other sneak-peeks for the mere sake of it. Particularly the one regarding a murderous prince clown…

He skimmed quickly through his mental database, and found what he was looking for:

« _Jack Napier,_ failed stand up artist, husband and soon-to-be father, fell to his death on New Year’s Eve when he was accidentally pushed by _The Batman_ into a vat of chemicals property of ACE enterprises. He had been deceived into taking the role of the criminal known as _Red Helmet_ , in order to appease the gang he owed money to, during one of their nightly raids. And even after being impossibly rescued from the chemical vat, skin and hair color changed for ever, he went home only to find his pregnant wife dead, murdered by said gang. Current whereabouts unknown.»

Edward didn’t believe it the first time he read it, and he probably went and discarded the information on a whim. For it sounded both too fantastical and too simple to be associated with the clown in front of him. Even worse to try and assume that’s how things really _had_ gone. But now…

‘Or maybe he hacked the Batman’s computer too. He’s not exactly _uncapable_ of that. But then again…’

“Too difficult a question, puzzle-boy?”

Edward thought for a second more, took a deep breath and answered slowly.

“When I heard the whales cry I thought of a boy, 11 or 12 years old, who got called ‘ _moron_ ’ by his truly idiotic father every single day. One day he participated in a school contest and, by solving an extremely complex logic problem, he got a 20 dollar prize. His father beat him to a pulp for it, because he was _convinced_ the boy had cheated.” Joker stared at him attentively.

“And?... Did _you_ cheat?”

“ **Of course not**. It was difficult, yes, and I was young, yes. But neither difficult nor young _enough_ for such desperate measures.” Edward shrugged and resumed his mission of consuming his previously abandoned breakfast.

 The Joker cackled for a final time and, while extending his arm to vigorously pat Edward’s head and ruffle up his hair, said, “I honestly hope you stay for the night, Eddie! You’re _insanely_ fun to be with! It will be such a nice _pijamada_ ~”

Edward sighed. His strength, both physical and mental, failing him on all accounts. Even putting his hair back into place seemed like too great a feat all of a sudden; especially when you’ve been up, scheming, wiring, constructing, dissipating nuisances, running for your life, _and_ dealing with supernatural events, for the whole past week or so. He might seriously need to make some adjustments to his lifestyle…

“...Only if I get to actually sleep this time.”

 

He slept for three days in a row after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I really hoped you enjoyed it and stay tuned for more happenings at The Joker's kitchen~  
> Reviews are always appreciated :)


End file.
